


Reflections

by elliex



Series: Dreamworlds [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dreams, M/M, Some S9 and S10 overlap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:25:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliex/pseuds/elliex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In one world, Dean faces terror, heartbreak, and sorrow. In another, Dean enjoys security, love, and happiness. </p><p>This is the third installment in the Dreamworlds series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third Dreamworlds installment and will likely make more sense if read as part of the series instead of as a standalone. 
> 
> Also, there is a fourth installment coming soon. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

\+ + + + 

When Dean had regained consciousness, all he’d noticed was the pulsing sensation that enveloped his body. It had taken a moment to realize it centered on his arm – right where Castiel’s handprint had been seared all those years ago.

Eventually, Sam had appeared in front of him, hazel eyes wide and worried. He spoke to Dean, but Dean couldn’t focus on what was being said. Instead, with his brother in front of him, Dean had cast his eyes around the room. All he’d seen were stacked boxes and dusty tables. 

He’d interrupted his brother, croaking out, “Where’s Cas?” 

Sam had frozen and his face paled. Dean had recognized that look, and terror gripped him. “Where’s Cas?,” he’d repeated. 

Sam had sighed heavily. “I’ll take you to him.”

That had been hours ago, and Dean had been sitting at Castiel’s bedside since. Charlie had run into the room and thrown her arms around his neck, yammering excitedly about him finally being awake, but when Dean had stared at her blankly, she’d stopped and backed away nervously. 

“You okay?,” she’d asked. As distraught as he was, Dean had recognized her fear. 

He’d nodded and tried to speak, only eking out, “When’d you get here?”

She’d frowned as if that was information he should’ve already known. “A few weeks ago? I came to help Sam and, um, Cas.”

Dean nodded and managed to bite back a snarky retort about how that obviously hadn’t gone well. He barely heard her, “It’s good to have you back, Dean.” By the time it registered, and he turned back to say something, she was gone. 

Dean’s mind was a muddle of confusion. He didn’t understand what was going on, and he felt no joy at being “back.” All he could comprehend right now was that Castiel was _dying_. And if Castiel died, then Dean might as well…

A heavy hand clamping his shoulder broke his reverie. Dean startled and grabbed the hand reflexively. 

“It’s just me,” Sam said. Dean let go of his brother’s hand and tried to calm his breathing. Sam crouched beside the chair, making himself a couple inches shorter than Dean. His brother's expression belied his own turmoil, and Dean just couldn’t deal with the pity and other emotions he recognized right now. 

“Don’t,” Dean ordered.

“I wasn’t,” Sam replied simply. “I just came to tell you I’m heading out.”

Dean arched an eyebrow. “You’re leaving now? What about –” He looked at Cas’s too-still form lying on the memory foam mattress. He swallowed hard. “What’ll I do?”

“You wait,” Sam said. “I’ve got a plan.” Hope flared inside Dean, but he stamped it down. “It’s a long shot, Dean, but it could work and…” Sam pressed his lips into a thin line; his jaw worked. “After what he did for me, for _you_ , I’ve got to try.”

Dean sat silent a moment, even as Sam stood and grasped his shoulder again. He knew Sam was grounding himself, reminding himself _and_ Dean that Dean was _Dean_ again. 

Dean forced the words out: “What exactly did he do?” Even to Dean’s ears, his voice sounded thin and pitiful. 

“What he’s always done,” Sam replied. “Saved you.” Sam squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll be back. Charlie’s going to keep an eye on you, so don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like what? Become a Knight of Hell?” 

Sam made a strangled noise. “Uh – too soon, Dean. And, for the record? That one’s _always_ going to be _too soon_.”

Sam paused in the doorway and knocked on the frame. Dean looked back at him, eyebrow raised. 

“You might want to shower, though. Get that sulfur stink off.” Sam grinned, and something relaxed inside of Dean. He snorted despite his despair over Cas. 

An hour or so later, Dean did force himself to leave Cas’s bedside. The water pressure was amazing, just like he remembered, but Dean felt weak and spindly. That, he told himself, is how he wound up sitting with grout lines digging into his ass cheeks, his knees pulled up to his chest, his head bowed forward. His sobs had nothing to do with what he’d become, what he’d done. 

And they definitely had nothing to do with Cas lying near death because he’d given his all – _again_ – to save Dean. 

By the time Dean rousted himself out of the shower, his skin was bright pink and his chest felt hollow from crying. He wrapped a towel low around his waist, tucking in the corner to hold it snug, and pilfered through the cabinet until he found his razor and shaving cream. He’d developed quite a scruff over the past however-long-it-had-been, but when he wiped his hand across the steam-covered mirror, Dean froze at the sight of red-rimmed, haunted eyes and hollowed cheeks. 

He didn’t recognize the man in the mirror. Dean backed away, his razor and shaving cream forgotten on the counter. 

+

He was sitting beside Cas’s bed when Charlie found him.

“From what I know of Castiel, he wouldn’t want you wallowing,” she said.

“Not wallowing,” Dean retorted, keeping his eyes trained on the slow and slight rise and fall of Cas’s chest.

Charlie stood beside him, quietly for a moment. “Are angels supposed to breathe?” she eventually asked. 

“No,” Dean replied curtly. He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed heavily. “I did this to him.”

“That’s not what Sam said.”

“Oh, yeah? So how did Sammy explain it then?”

Charlie took a deep breath. “According to Sam, Metatron enabled all of this – killing you and turning you into a… um…. yeah. And stealing Castiel’s original grace.”

Dean snorted. “I guess that’s true. Technically.” He paused before continuing. “But I – I welcomed what I became, to a point anyway. And if I hadn’t, then Cas wouldn’t have used up his grace saving me. He was already sick.”

“I know,” Charlie said. “Sam also told me that you – even when you were, _you know_ – that you helped Castiel and left him a message.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. There was more to be said about it – how Cas had reminded him of his humanity, of what they had, and how that memory was why, when summoned, Dean had allowed it, despite being powerful enough to resist their call. Dean didn’t say any of that, though. He just sat quietly.

Charlie’s voice cut through his brooding. “Did you know that Cas tricked Sam?”

Dean startled. “What?”

“After they summoned you here and put you into a stasis state with the spell, Castiel proposed using what was left of his borrowed grace then. He knew it would burn out what was left of the… um… _you know_. But Sam said no, told him that if you lived and Cas died, the grief alone would kill you.”

Dean’s face flushed as he realized that, yes, Sam definitely knew about him and Cas. He cleared his throat. “Sam wasn’t wrong.”

“So Cas waited until Sam had a lead on a new spell – turned out later that it was a false lead, planted by yours truly there,” Charlie said, nodding towards the unconscious angel. “Sam went, Cas stayed here, and by the time I got here the next day, you were an unconscious human instead of a spelled... _you know_ , and Cas was…um… like this.”

Dean pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and desperately fought the tide of grief rising inside him. A small hand hesitantly touched his shoulder, and he flinched at the contact. Charlie sucked in a breath and withdrew her hand. 

“We have a plan, you know.”

“So Sam said.”

“It’s a good plan, Dean.”

Dean said nothing. 

“Here,” she said, setting a wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water on the floor by his feet. “Call me if you need anything. It’s going to be okay.”

She left the room, and Dean scooted his chair closer to the bed. He leaned forward, taking Cas’s cold hand in both of his. “You stupid, beautiful bastard,” he whispered. “Come back to me. Please?”

Dean bowed his head, resting his forehead against their joined hands. It crossed his mind to wonder if a former Knight of Hell was allowed to pray. He pleaded with the universe anyway. Just in case. 

\+ + 

Dean’s eyes snapped open. He stared at the ceiling, taking deep breaths. He realized that he’d squeezed Cas awake when his husband raised his head from the crook of Dean’s arm to murmur an unintelligible but concerned inquiry.

“It’s okay,” Dean whispered. He leaned forward and kissed Cas on the forehead, threading his fingers through dark curls gone askew. “Go back to sleep.” Cas nodded sleepily, making a soft noise before rolling over and burrowing deeper into the covers.

Dean eased out of bed, grabbing the baby monitor before padding the short distance to the adjoining nursery. Claire was still asleep, swaddled comfortably and bathed in moonlight. _She looks like an angel_ , Dean thought – _our angel_. 

He sat in the large, comfortable glider beside the crib, covering himself with one of Mama Ellen’s crocheted blankets. He knew he wouldn’t sleep after… after _that_ … so he sat and watched their daughter sleep instead. 

When Claire woke up, the early grey light of dawn had filled the room. Dean was already prepared for her gurgly demands, and he had her changed and re-swaddled before she could let loose with a tinny cry. “Hey there, Claire bear,” he said, kissing her on the nose as cradled her carefully in his arms. She cooed happily and her eyes – eyes exactly like Cas’s – twinkled. “You hungry?” 

She glommed on to the bottle’s nipple, her little mouth working furiously to get her breakfast. Dean chuckled and eased the bottle back, cautioning, “Careful, there, baby girl. Not too fast.” She sighed, rubbing her head contentedly against his chest, and slowed her drinking. “Good girl,” he murmured. 

A hand came down on his shoulder, and Dean jerked before he realized it was Cas – _of course_ it was Cas – who was now staring at him with a furrowed brow. 

“Why did I scare you? Is everything okay?,” Cas asked. 

Dean laughed nervously but didn’t answer. “Look at our girl go,” he said instead, nodding to their daughter, who was downing the bottle like a champ. 

Cas laid a gentle palm on Claire’s downy head. “She’s amazing.”

“She is,” Dean agreed. He pulled his feet off the glider’s matching footstool and nodded towards it. “Take a seat.” Cas pulled the stool beside the glider first, and when he did sit down, he leaned against Dean. It was cozy and comfortable, and Dean loved having his husband by his side and their daughter in his arms. 

“Sweet girl,” Cas murmured, leaning forward to carefully kiss Claire’s forehead. He looked up at Dean. “And what are you doing up? I was supposed to take this feeding while you slept – remember?”

Dean shrugged as well as he could with a newborn cradled in his arms. “I was awake.” He gave Cas a once-over, grinning at the way his hair stuck out all over his head. “’Sides, looks like you still need some shut eye. You can go back to bed, Cas. I got this.”

Cas shook his head. “I’d rather sit here with you two. The bed’s cold and empty without you.” 

Dean felt his cheeks flush. He loved the way that Cas loved him, though he had trouble saying that sometimes. For now, he settled for suggesting, “Why don’t we both go back to bed when she’s down again?”

Cas smiled softly and leaned his head on Dean’s arm. “Yes, please.”

Dean leaned his cheek on the top of Cas’s head and watched his daughter devouring her bottle while Cas ran gentle fingers over her downy blonde hair. 

Claire made quick work of her bottle, and Dean passed her to Cas, who walked her around the room, patting her back until she let out an enormous burp. 

Dean paused in changing her sheets to smirk at Cas, “That you or her?”

“Haha,” Cas answered dryly. “She’s your daughter, through and through.”

Dean chuckled and finished with the linens, carrying the dirty ones to the nearby hamper. “All set,” he announced. “Want me to take care of her diaper?”

Cas shook his head. “I’ve got it.” 

Dean watched, just in case, but Cas had quickly learned the ins and outs of diaper-changing, and he was fine. He wasn’t as confident about his swaddling technique, though, and he looked to Dean for affirmation before he finished up. “Like that?,” he asked. 

Dean nodded proudly. “Yeah, exactly like that, Papa.” 

Cas’s hands stilled. “Papa?”

Dean shrugged. “We can go with something else. It just seemed to fit the moment.”

Cas grinned widely. “I like it,” he said. 

Dean slipped his arms around Cas’s waist, hooking his chin over his shoulder. “Me too,” he said quietly.

Cas arranged Claire comfortably and then rested his hands over Dean’s, leaning back into his husband’s embrace. Together, they watched their baby girl, who was already heavy lidded and yawning, slip off into sleep.

Dean kissed Cas on the neck. “She’s down. We should probably get some sleep before Her Highness wants second breakfast.” 

Cas nodded. “Got the monitor?”

Dean stepped away and grabbed it from the shelf. “I do now.” He held out a hand. 

“Coming, Papa?”

“Absolutely, Daddy.”

+

Cas immediately crawled back into bed and patted Dean’s pillow. “Come on,” he ordered. 

“Just a minute,” Dean said, stepping into the bathroom to pee. He was washing his hands when he realized that he was afraid to look in the mirror. He knew he wasn’t _that_ Dean, but what if he saw that same fear and heartbreak etched onto his face? 

Taking a breath, he forced himself to look. For a second, he _did_ see _that_ Dean, and his heart hurt. Just then Cas called out, “Hurry up. I’m freezing.”

Dean smiled, and the pain eased. He dried his hands and flipped off the light. “Yeah, I’m coming. I can’t wait for you to warm up my ice-cold feet.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Dean assured, crawling into bed and plastering himself along Cas’s side, rubbing his now-very cold feet along Cas’s legs. He laughed as Cas tried to wiggle away. 

“Put on some damn socks,” Cas ordered.

“Nah, I like how you warm me up better.” Dean tangled their legs and feet together and, sure enough, he quickly began to warm. 

“I’ll get you back for that,” Cas promised. 

“I look forward to it,” Dean murmured. He had his cheek on Cas’s heart, his arm thrown across Cas’s waist. He felt Cas’s fingers thread through the hair on the back of his head and sighed in contentment.

“So you’re okay now?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “I’m fine.”

Cas waited a beat. “Was it another one of those dreams?”

“Yeah.”

“That bad?”

“Even worse.”

Cas’s fingers tightened in Dean’s hair, and Dean looked up to meet an intense blue gaze. “This is _our_ world, Dean. You’re mine. I’m yours. Claire’s ours. We’re hers.”

Dean smiled and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to Cas’s lips, but Cas had other ideas, holding Dean’s head firm and plundering Dean’s mouth. When they parted, both were panting, and Cas repeated. “You’re mine. I’m yours. Always.”

Cas used his thumbs to gently wipe away the tears Dean didn’t even know he was crying. Dean nodded and leaned forward, kissing Cas once more, lightly, before tucking his head under his husband’s chin. Cas’s arms tightened around him, and strong hands rubbed lightly up and down Dean’s body. “Put it out of your mind, Dean. I’ve got you.” 

Dean’s throat was tight. “Love you,” he managed to say. 

Cas pressed a kiss to the top of Dean’s head. “Love you.”

Dean let himself relax in the security of Cas’s embrace, in the knowledge that Claire was safely asleep in the next room. He let the remnants of the dream slip away. 

_This_ was his world. 

\+ + + +


End file.
